This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and
adult language which some may find offensive and which is not
appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

Nimah was in awe of the blond giant of a man she had gone to San Diego
to find. A normal woman might have been freaked out to open her eyes and
find herself deep in the heart of Finland. But when had her life ever
been normal? She wished like hell she could answer his question, but the
problem was she had no idea what she was. She just knew she was
different. Always had been. A woman with no family, no history, no idea
where she came from or why she could do the things she could. Her entire
life she had known only one thing for sure -- one day she would meet
this man, and she was meant to be here, in his arms.
Since puberty Nimah had dreamed of him. Ukko of Finland had been the
number one constant in her life while all else had been transient.
Abandoned at birth, she'd been raised in a series of foster and group
homes until she'd turned eighteen. That was when she became aware of
three very important things. The first was that she was very different
from everyone around her. Her abilities were akin to something seen in a
sci-fi movie. She'd had to hide all the things she could do from others
all her life. Until now.
The second thing she'd been aware of since puberty was that one day she
would meet this man, Ukko, and the gaping hole in the center of her soul
would be filled. It made no sense in the conventional way of thinking,
but Nimah had always known him. She had seen bits and pieces of his
entire existence, an existence that spanned longer than recorded time.
The third thing that had been a constant in her life was the unseen
threat always hovering in the shadows. Until tonight she'd never seen
those who watched, constantly looking for her and others like her. She
didn't know how she knew there were others, but she was as certain of it
as she was that Ukko belonged to her, that she belonged to him.
If she wanted to she could will herself back to San Diego right this
second. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Honestly, she hadn't
wanted to run from him earlier, either. Even though Nimah had dreamed of
Ukko, she'd never been able to find him. There was never enough detail
in her dreams or visions to pinpoint his location until yesterday, when
his location popped into her consciousness, followed by a burning need
to go to him. It took nothing to be there; she'd simply closed her eyes
and willed herself there. She'd left everything behind just for a chance
to finally meet him.
But things went horribly wrong. The homeless man she'd helped seemed to
call out to her. In some odd way he was important to her and her future.
His mind had been so befuddled, a darkness clouding the thoughts trying
to push through -- he wanted to tell her something. He was there for
her, and Ukko. Generally she never took the chance to showcase any of
her abilities. The unseen threat could find her like that. There was
always a cold chill that warned her of their nearness -- a shadow that
smelled of pure evil warned her to flee whenever she used any of her
gifts.
Nimah had felt the moment Ukko spotted her. His disbelief at what he was
seeing as she healed the homeless man, his confusion and suspicion,
bombarded her like physical blows. As much as her body and soul cried
out for him, her first impulse had been to run. It had been so hard to
even think! Her pussy creamed, aching with every step. She wanted to
stop and run into his arms, but she just couldn't.
So she'd run from him. Too intent on getting away from the man she
wanted desperately but was suddenly unsure of, she'd missed the internal
warning hardwired in her brain to disappear whenever an
all-too-familiar chill raced down her spine. Their sudden appearance
threw her. Expecting hideous, monstrous creatures, she was completely
unprepared for the beautiful evil that tried to touch her.
Everything within her had rebelled at the wrongness of their touch.
Repelling them had been remarkably easy, but Nimah knew without really
knowing that it had been Ukko's presence that enabled her to create the
energy that felled them. Then why was it that Ukko, who she knew
instinctively was far more powerful than she, could not do as she had
done?
"What are you, woman?" Ukko demanded yet again, crushing her body to
him.
He looked so deliciously furious. Confused and turned on at the same
time. Even with his lips pressed into a tight line, they looked so
amazingly kissable. Proof of his desire pressed insistently against her.
She didn't mean to rub up against it, not really. The sharp tug on her
hair in response made her moan, her nipples hardening against his chest.
"I'm yours." The words came out in a whisper of their own will. Nimah
didn't expect for them to be received very well. What kind of a man
wanted some random woman declaring herself to be his, despite the
bizarre circumstances of this entire situation?
In response, his lips crushed hers this time. This kiss was as
possessive as the first had been passionate. As if to confirm her
statement, Ukko took everything, leaving her panting and breathless
before abruptly stepping away.
"You are no human woman." Nimah had no idea what he meant by that. As
far as she knew she was human. Wasn't she? "You say you are mine, prove
it."
"What -- what do you mean?" Her heart thundered in her chest. Had she
been wearing underwear, they would have been sodden by now. Her jeans
felt abrasive against the bare skin of her cunt. She had prepared for
this.
With a wave of his hand, her clothing tore apart, falling at her feet.
Though she knew he could have easily disrobed himself in a similar way,
he stood fully clothed, his hands going to the fastening of his pants.
"Kneel, Nimah. Show me how much you are mine."

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Parties are so lame.
Livia crossed her arms and stared at the people swaying before her. Hard
rock blasted from the speakers and rumbled the floor. She flicked a
lock of her hair over her shoulder. Dancing, laughing, and more than
enough drinking. She sighed. When was the last time she'd danced and
laughed? Hell. She couldn't remember.
She wanted to dance, to wrap her arms around a torso thick with muscle,
to rest her head on a taut set of pecs and hear the heartbeat of a
red-blooded male like the one she'd drooled over in her history course.
He'd mentioned throwing an event. She wanted to see him, to see if he
was actually like the persona she'd created for him in her mind.
She snorted. Meeting a guy was probably not the best reason to attend a
costume party off campus, but who cared? It wasn't like she had anyone
keeping tabs on her.
A young man dressed as a gladiator ambled toward her. "Hel-lo,
beautiful." A wide grin curled his lips. His blond hair flopped over his
brow as he winked and pointed to her with his sloshing cup. "You
shouldn't stand in the corner alone. Might get your wings dirty."
Wings? She crooked one brow. She'd come as a Madonna look-alike, not an
angel. When she glanced over her shoulder, sure enough, her wings were
there -- translucent, but there. Odd. "They'll wash." Her wings had been
ripped off over two thousand years prior. When - and how -- the hell
had they come back?
"Yeah?" He wobbled on his feet. "Feathers work in a washing machine?" He
burped and his dark eyes widened. "I made a funny." He swayed again and
splashed beer onto her bustier.
Livia gritted her teeth. This wasn't the man she had in mind. Her dream
man didn't slop alcohol on anyone -- as far as she knew. Was the man in
her mind simply a figment of her imagination? An impossibility?
Probably. She'd been around far too long and seen more than her share of
good men fall by the wayside.
At least washing the beer stench out of her clothes wouldn't be too difficult.
"So, do ya wanna go make out?" He licked his lips. "I'm a great kisser, and I bet you do wonders with those tits."
"Go home, Brett."
Livia's blood turned to fire in her veins. The deep, gravelly voice set
her nerves on edge. If the drunken fool would just blow, she could at
least see the guy who'd come to her aid. If he was Tyler from history
class, then even better.
"Butt out, Ty." Brett smacked his lips. "We were gonna have sex. Me and
those lovelies." He reached out, hands hovering over her chest. "Come to
Brett. Again."
Again? Who was this clown? "I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the
last man alive," Livia snapped and slapped his hands away. "You spilled
beer on me, and you're an ass."
"You'd know." He swayed into her personal space and murmured in a much less slurred tone, "I never forgot you."
Never forgot her? What the hell was this guy drinking? She stared at the
drunken gladiator. Nothing about him really stood out. Still, at her
age, everything looked a little familiar. He couldn't possibly be him.
Isaiah was dead. She'd seen him die over three centuries ago.
"Okay, time for Brett to go home. I don't want shit on my carpet, and
she's not interested." The owner of the deep voice stepped out from
behind Livia and grabbed Brett's arms. Her jaw dropped. This man was the
man. The man. Tyler Wilson embodied her innermost desires, and he was
right there protecting her.
Lean muscle filled out Ty's tall frame. What would it feel like to have
his hands on her body? To run her fingers through his thick, dark hair
and listen to him murmur dirty things as they explored each other's
bodies -- what would it be like? A flash of bodies moving together and
the look of sheer lust in his blue eyes filled her mind. Oh, good God,
it would be almost heaven. Her pussy clenched and liquid heat coated her
panties.
If he felt the heat, too. She couldn't hope to be so lucky again. The
run-in with Brett or whoever he was had served as a cold reminder of
what she'd fallen for and couldn't have.
Both men moved through the throng of people and disappeared. She should
stick around and find out if Ty was interested or if he was just keeping
an eye on his property. Not that she could blame him. Dumped beer could
be murder on a sound system. Not that her opinion mattered much. She
was just a partygoer like everyone else there. She folded her arms.
Every moment she waited, her conscience ate into her a little more.
Waiting made her look weak. It made her look needy. Was she needy?
Maybe. Damn.
No. She'd waited long enough. If he really wanted to talk to her, he'd
have come back. She turned and made her way to the apartment door and
rummaged through the pile of coats, looking for hers. Guys like Ty had
women chasing them in swarms. She'd been witness to that every time she
walked out of the Saunders Building. She wasn't going to follow him
around like a damned puppy. Coat in hand, she turned toward the door.
She plowed into a scantily clad tiger giggling with a cowboy.
"Watch it," the tiger snapped. "Nice wings, though. Costume outlet, or
did you get them online? I've been looking for some just like them. I
want a set. Michael, buy me some like that."
Livia rolled her eyes. The truth was much too involved. Obscure always worked. "I don't remember."
The cowboy tipped his hat. "Wanna join in?" He bobbed his brows, and his
gaze went straight to her chest. "We're always looking for more, and
looking at those boobs, you'd be one hell of a third."
"Michael! You said I was the only one," she squealed. "No more thirds."
Michael shrugged. "Can't blame me for asking." He turned his attention back to Livia. "You in?"
If they only knew what she'd done during her lifetime. "I'm good. No
thanks." Livia ducked her head and stepped out into the hallway. She
didn't look up until she hit the stairwell door.
Finally. Freedom.
Livia stopped on the landing and stared up at the sky through the round
stairwell window. Her heart ached. He was out there somewhere. The one
man to complete her. Was he still alive? Had she'd only imagined his
death? Or was she doomed to walk the Earth for the rest of eternity,
alone?
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. It was foolish to pine for the
assumed dead, especially when they'd parted so badly. Still, Isaiah held
her heart and her life in his hands, just as he'd had for the last
couple thousand years.
Footsteps thumped behind her, but she didn't bother to look up.
"Angel?"http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1755

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appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

Rett Aurumon stood in the front foyer of Gaden Hazac's apartment waiting
for his client. He walked to the end of the foyer, careful not to step
into the spacious living room of glass, chrome and leather. The room had
all the warmth of the man who lived within its pale gray walls.
Barefoot and wearing a pair of black sweats, Hazac entered the living room. "She'll be ready shortly. Her hair was mussed."
The tone of the lawyer's voice and his lack of clothing got the point
across. Hazac wanted Rett to know he and Miss Nordrath had had sex. Rett
had often wondered why the man felt it necessary to make this point to a
bodyguard.
Rett liked his job and his growing feelings for the woman he was hired
to protect were disturbing, but he was certain of one thing. He disliked
Gaden Hazac. "Thank you, Mr. Hazac."
The lawyer walked over to a wet bar and poured himself a drink. Then
Hazac turned his back on Rett and stared out the window at the city
skyline.
Rett hadn't expected his client's boyfriend to engage him in
conversation, and he'd never been invited into the living area of the
apartment. He didn't mind remaining in the foyer without benefit of
restroom or a drink of water. The job required hours of tedious waiting.
At least Rett didn't have to listen to Hazac and his client making
love.
The driver called to tell Rett the armored vehicle was in front of the
building. Rett disconnected and his client entered the living room. Her
dark gold hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders. She wore a bright
blue blouse that complemented her eyes and a gray skirt that accentuated
her trim figure.
Rett longed to let his gaze drift slowly down her shapely legs to the
high heels she wore, but he kept his focus.
Hazac hustled to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Hey,
baby."
When Hazac leaned down to kiss her, Miss Nordrath turned so that his
lips brushed her cheek. She looked at Rett. "Is the car ready?"
"Waiting out front, Miss Nordrath."
His client stepped back, extricating herself from Hazac. "Goodnight, Gaden."
"I'll call you tomorrow," Hazac said.
Rett opened the front door and checked the hallway. As he escorted his
client out of the apartment, Rett glanced at Hazac. "Goodnight, Mr.
Hazac."
The lawyer glared at him, then downed his drink.
When they reached the elevator, Rett pushed the call button. "Did you have a nice evening, Miss Nordrath?"
She sighed. "Not one of my best."
They stepped into the empty elevator. "Are you headed home, Miss?"
"Yes, thank you."
As the car descended, Rett took advantage of the private moment to
admire his client. She was twenty-seven, stunningly beautiful, with a
generous smile and a musical laugh. Her features were delicate, her pale
golden skin was flawless, her neck graceful, her breasts nicely
rounded, her waist trim, her ass perfect and her legs long.
And the dreams she wrought were making his nights pure agony.
She glanced at him and smiled. Rett was sure she'd caught him looking,
but was saved by the loud ding of the elevator bell, announcing they'd
descended to the lobby floor. The doors opened. Rett stepped out first
and checked the building's foyer before his client exited the car.
He repeated the security check as they exited the building.
"Rett, why don't you call me Karis?"
Because I need the reminder that I'm just an employee.
"I'm following instructions, Miss."
"My father's instructions? You have my permission to call me Karis."
"Thank you, Miss."
He opened the back door of the Nordrath vehicle. Karis' car was heavily
armored with a trained driver at the wheel. Rett rarely left her side.
She climbed into the vehicle, then looked up at Rett and grinned.
"You're not going to do it, are you?"
He grinned back. "No, Miss."
Rett shut the heavy door. He'd never say it out loud, but that wouldn't stop him from thinking of her as Karis.http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1758

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appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

"Stay down!" Tasmin Robins pulled the man at her side behind the large
refuse bin. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled low on his face and
sunglasses, hiding his expression.
Screams from her fellow humans made the usually quiet terminal chaotic.
Glistening metallic and marble surfaces usually made the shuttle port's
loading dock feel orderly and sterile in an utterly comforting way,
reminding her of her home back on Earth. Now the shining surfaces
reflected laser fire from a source she couldn't pinpoint.
Ball cap guy tried to stand up again. Her hand was small, but she
managed to snag a substantial handful of his oversized blue sweatshirt.
She yanked sharply, pulling him back down. His faded blue jeans made a
small tearing sound as the rip over his right knee widened.
"Je'L afremtal," he cursed in a language she hadn't expected to hear.
"You aren't from Earth. Why are you here? These ships are for Earth
Embassy personnel only." Tasmin did her best to stop glaring at the
interloper. He wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last, to
try to score a free ride to Earth.
"You know nothing." With his heavily accented comment, he managed to convey a rude superiority she found instantly irritating.
"I know you're going about visiting my home planet the wrong way. It's
gotten a lot easier to get a visa now. Only a criminal would need to
sneak onboard an embassy flight," Tasmin hissed.
She paused, her eyes round and her mouth forming a subtle Ohh.
"Are they shooting at you, specifically?" she whispered, hearing the
horror in her own voice upon realizing she was hiding from an unseen
gunman with his probable target.
"Yes, but not because I am criminal." The man's English was good, but
not perfect. "Stay down, woman!" He abruptly crouched and began to move
to the left, around the corner.
Tasmin saw the red dot on his back. The shooter had his laser fixed on
the Aurorian. Without thinking about the consequences of her reckless
action, she sprang forward, pushing the man down. Pain radiated through
her middle. A gasp escaped her lips as she fell. Lying on the cold
marble floor, she saw a red trail creeping across the smooth white
marble in front of her face.
Blood. Her blood. Transfixed at the sight, she lay quietly while chaos
erupted around her. Tasmin felt cold. Strangely, she could hear
screaming and shouting, but no more shots. Blinking, she cleared the
moisture from her eyes. They'd watered, but she wasn't crying. Weak
tears weren't in her nature.
She hurt too much to move. All she could do was listen.
"Je'L huten le grubi Me'L?"
She tried to make sense of another male voice. He, too, spoke in
Aurorian. This part of the terminal was human only. Why so many aliens
in the restricted area? she wondered through the haze of pain. Her fuzzy
mind strained to translate. She'd studied hard when she learned she was
coming to Aurora for her internship. She spoke the language better than
some of the long-term personnel. She closed her eyes and took a deep
breath. Focus.
"My prince, are you hurt?" She was almost positive she'd translated correctly.
My Prince? It can't be.
Medical staff began to swarm around her.
"Leheck leheim ge ha Je'L Velhum." See to the woman, your prince has commanded it.
The Star Prince. I can't believe it.
The paramedics murmured humbly at their liege. More aliens where they
shouldn't be. She could see the boots of both human and Aurorian
soldiers swarming around him, protecting the valuable man.
She saw her reflection in the mirrored door across from where she'd
fallen. Her long auburn hair lay tangled around her. She could see it
absorbing some of her pooling blood. Her normally fair completion was
ghastly white. She already looked dead.
Tas could see her charred wound, and her internal organs. She stared
into her own big brown eyes, unable to look any lower. Her wound was
horrifying, survival unlikely. Her mother and sister would be so sad. I
just wish I could tell them I'm sorry.
"Tetung Valumspar. Hejar L' Vomek." I owe her a life debt. She belongs to me.
What he'd said didn't frighten her because she didn't think she'd live
long enough to worry about the consequences of his proclamation. She
couldn't hold on any longer. Even with the realization that she'd just
saved the life of the Star Prince, the most powerful man in all of
Aurora, the man who ruled the seven kingdoms, she couldn't keep her eyes
open. Her lashes fluttered. Darkness overcame her and her mind shut
off.
* * *
Dripping.
The sound of dripping woke Tasmin from her deep, dreamless sleep. She
forced her blurry eyes open. Her mouth felt as dry as dust. The window
was open and a slight breeze ruffled the gauzy pale peach curtains. The
walls were the same shade. Her body hurt. Turning away from the window,
she noticed a large bank of medical monitoring equipment, all of it
Aurorian design. She could tell she wasn't in a hospital, but there was
nothing in the small room to indicate where she actually was.
"Oh... ow... ouch, fuck," she muttered, forcing herself to sit up in the
bed. On the wall across from her sat a long table filled with bouquets,
rows of them. They also covered the floor under the table. Many looked
wilted, and it made her wonder just how long she'd been out of
commission.
Looking down, she noticed the huge hole in her body was gone. She wore a
sheer light nightie in a color she'd never seen on Earth. The only way
to describe it was blue with a dark pink sheen. There was more to the
color, but she just didn't have any reference on Earth to describe it.
She felt a sensation akin to joy just looking at the way the garment
shimmered, reflecting the light. Many colors and scents on Aurora were
so multidimensional that they actually caused physical reactions in
humans.
The style of her scant clothing reminded her of something a sexy genie
might wear. Blushing, she couldn't help but wonder who'd dressed her in
the garment. Moreover, how many people had seen her naked, unconscious
body?http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1762

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adult language which some may find offensive and which is not
appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

I stalked across the bar and hauled myself up onto one of the few empty
barstools. It looked like the entire neighborhood had decided to drown
their sorrows at the same time. At least that meant there was a good
selection of men available. Good thing, because right now I was feeling
hornier than a werewolf during the full moon, and pissed enough not to
be too picky about whom I chose to spend the night with. Talks with my
self-appointed guardian Tyrone always had this effect on me. Make that
monologues. I don't think I'd managed to get in more than two words
during the entire fiasco.
I waved my hand to catch Sam's attention, and motioned him to bring me a
drink. Sam had been bartending at Joe's Bar long enough to know what I
wanted. I swiveled the chair and surveyed the room, considering my
options. The three guys at the pool table weren't bad looking, and there
were a few likely candidates at a table in the far corner, but they all
looked just a tad too civilized for my taste tonight. I was in the mood
for something wild.
A gust of wind drew my attention to the door. The man who entered sent
heat curling deep in my gut. Civilized was the last word that came to
mind. Hard. Wild. Uncivilized. Yeah, those described him to a T.
A riot of dark hair curled all the way to the blue uniform stretched
tight across his huge shoulders. He reminded me of the football players
at the inner city stadiums, wide and covered with thick ropes of muscle.
A tingle of anticipation raced through me. His dark eyes swept the room
with cynical disinterest as he shouldered his way through the noisy
crowd, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for him to
notice me.
"He's trouble, Tundra. Don't even think about it." Sam slapped the beer down in front of me, breaking the spell.
"You know him?" I ignored the bartender's frown. I was way past needing
someone to vet my dates. "I don't remember seeing him in here before."
Sam nodded. "Alex is a loner, a beat cop down at the precinct. He
doesn't come in here often. Last time he did, it took me two days to
clean up the mess." He leaned forward, lowering his voice so I had to
strain to hear his words. "I heard a rumor that there's a troll
somewhere in his family tree, and I'm inclined to believe it."
"Really." I swept my tongue across my suddenly dry lips as I watched the
slide of tight material over his ass. "That could make things very...
interesting."
Sam snorted and shook his head as I took a long pull on my drink.
"That's one word for it. Don't say I didn't warn you!"
I laughed, throwing him a saucy grin as I slid off the barstool.
"Warning duly noted. Wish me luck!" Turning my back on his disapproving
frown, I wound my way through the dense crowd toward my target.
He'd taken a seat at a small table and was watching the trio at the pool
table mangle a simple game of spots and stripes. One of the scantily
clad waitresses swooped in to deposit a drink in front of him, bending
forward so far that I fully expected her ample bosoms to fall out of the
low-cut bodice of her dress. She had better not be under the impression
that she stood a chance with him, because I was more than willing to
get into a fight tonight. A little pre-coitus bloodshed would be just a
bonus.
The man tossed some credits at her, and she flounced away to take orders
from another table. I found myself feeling mildly disappointed. I
hadn't been in a good fight in at least two moons. Wouldn't hurt to get
in a little practice.
Reaching my destination, I pulled out the other chair at the table and
sat down beside my target. I took my time assessing him close up,
letting my gaze wander from the tips of his serviceable boots and up his
muscular legs to the impressive bulge at his groin. Looked like I
wouldn't have to work too hard to get what I wanted.
I took another gulp of my beer and considered the vast expanse of his
chest, barely covered by the tight uniform. A unicorn tattoo on his
biceps seemed incongruous with the rough attitude, and being my usual
tactful self, I decided not to mention it.
Yeah, right. Me? Tactful? "So what's with the prissy little horse?" I nodded at the tattoo. "Lose a bet or something?"
I found myself staring into the darkest eyes I'd ever encountered; pools
of liquid heat. For a moment, I thought I'd blown my chance of playing
ride-em cowboy with him, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled and
he let out a bellow of real, straight-from-the-gut laughter. It made him
look even hotter, which I hadn't thought possible. My libido kicked
into high gear, and I could feel the liquid heat gathering at the apex
of my thighs. Idly, I wondered if he'd go for the direct approach and
save us both some time. I decided not to risk it.
"The prissy little horse has a certain sentimental value that I only
share with close friends." The man's eyes swept over me with obvious
interest. "Do I know you?"
I decided to play it cool and mysterious. Who knows? It worked on those
old video flicks they showed on public TV. "Not yet, but the night is
young." Okay, that just sounded stupid. I smiled in what I hoped was a
seductive manner. "My name is Tundra."
A slow, sexy smile turned his face into an open invitation -- one I had
every intention of accepting. When he spoke, his voice had the smooth,
deep inflection of a very old bottle of expensive whiskey. "That's a
very unusual name. Nice to meet you, Tundra."
He held his hand out and I stared at it like an idiot. He wanted to
shake hands? Not exactly what I'd envisioned, but hey, it was a start. I
took his hand and shook it. It was big. Real big. Heat crawled up my
spine as I imagined it caressing my breasts. Or sliding across my naked
ass. "Nice to meet you too..." I arched my eyebrow as it occurred to me I
had no idea what his name was.
The smile widened. "Alex. But most people just call me Big Blue."
I took a long drink, letting the silence stretch out. "Big Blue. How interesting. Referring to your uniform, I assume?"
He chuckled. "Well, that would be the Blue part."
"And the Big?" It took all my self-control to keep my gaze from straying to that thick bulge at his groin.
He kept eye contact, the grin on his face taking on a mischievous look
as he reached for my hand and drew it slowly toward his lap. He didn't
say anything else. He didn't have to. Under my questing fingers, that
huge lump grew even bigger. Big Blue indeed! "Oh my."http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1752

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adult language which some may find offensive and which is not
appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

The first time was an accident.
A typical Monday morning, running around wildly, making a mess of
everything. I grabbed my mug for a last gulp of coffee and splattered it
over my blouse. I pulled it off, yanking a button loose in the process.
I searched through my wardrobe, throwing my skimpy party tops to the
side, praying that I had another clean office top. Finally I found one,
but the material was too thin. You could see through it to my lacy bra,
and through that to the dark circles of my nipples. I took a deep
breath, pulled the new blouse and the bra off, and looked for more
appropriate underwear. With a plain bra in my hand, I turned to glance
at my alarm clock. But it wasn't the time that caught my attention. Out
of the corner of my eye, through the window, I saw her. And I froze.
I'd never bothered with blinds on the bedroom window of my little
terraced house. It overlooked farm fields and the garden of one big
detached house, and I'd never seen any need to obscure my view for the
sake of privacy. I knew a man and a woman lived in the detached house
from glimpsing them in their garden occasionally, but I never saw them
out and about in the village, and if I had we weren't even on the "Hi,
how are you?" level of casual acquaintances.
Yet, here I was, dressed only in my stockings and office skirt, staring straight into the eyes of my neighbor.
My heart thumped in my chest and I seemed unable to move and do the
simple thing of drawing the curtains, or even put a modest hand over my
naked breasts. Instead I gazed into the teasing green eyes of the woman
who was staring unabashedly at me. She was wearing a short summer dress
that moved with the morning breeze, allowing me to appreciate how slim
and long her white legs were. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. If
anyone had asked me before, I would have struggled to recall whether
she was blonde or brunette. In the light of the morning sun, I could
clearly see all the different colors -- red, brown, gold, light and
darker strands mingling together to create a vision of beauty.
I felt giddy looking at her and forced myself to drop my gaze. My eyes
lowered to the curve of her chest pushing against the material of her
dress.
Color rushed to my cheeks. I stepped forward, pulled the curtains closed
and tried to focus my mind on getting ready for the work day. As I put
my bra on, I looked down at the pink-brownness of my nipples. Had my
neighbor been able to see how hard they were from where she was
standing?http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1754

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and
adult language which some may find offensive and which is not
appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

I slowly turned, overwhelmed by my exotic surroundings. Instead of the
smog, pricey boutiques and crazy traffic that were LA, I saw intricately
carved barns, restored peasant houses and a castle straight out of a
Dracula movie. Romania. Wow. It was hard to believe that barely a month
ago, I'd sat across the desk from a couple of producers at Earth
Broadcasting Network, pitching my idea for a new series that I'd called
Wild Things. The concept? A rugged male hunk of a host would tramp all
over the planet in search of world myths to prove or debunk them. Since
there were already primetime monster hunts out there and EBN preferred
an R rating, I'd stipulated that his only companion must be a sexy
female guide/photographer. If our pair had the right chemistry, our
targeted demographic would watch every week just to find out whether or
not they'd hooked up.
How could I have guessed that the network CEO, my estranged father Sean
Kerrigan, wouldn't green light the pilot unless I took on the role of
host? Me, the klutz who'd never even slept in a backyard tent. A
chauvinist in the throes of a midlife crisis, Dad had dumped my mom for a
younger model eight months ago. I'd ignored him ever since -- no
visits, no phone calls, no texts.
And if we passed each other in the hall, I kept my shoulders squared and
my eyes straight ahead. Was this his way of getting back at me for all
the cold shouldering? I was sure of it. Could I have simply blown him
off? Not with my rent, car payment and credit card debt. I was overdue
for a killer idea, and this was definitely it. So now I fumed, even
though I stood smack in the middle of the most beautiful scenery in the
world.
"Cass! There you are." My prissy director, Beau Truman, motioned for me
to join him in front of the castle, which I knew dated from the twelfth
century. Yeah, I'd done my homework and might actually have appreciated
this incredible opportunity just a little if I hadn't known my jerk of a
dad was behind the scenes, yanking my strings.
I walked over. "Morning, Beau."
"How are you feeling, luv?"
"Fine, so far." I lied, of course. At the moment I didn't have
butterflies in my stomach, I had bats -- big ones -- which made sense, I
guess. Transylvania was just a stone's throw away.
"Good. I want to introduce you to your gorgeous guide." Though Beau
winked, he looked at me a little anxiously, probably because I'd
confided my doubts about surviving in the wild. Not that I wasn't
physically fit. I was, thanks to another bill that had to be paid -- gym
membership. I also had camera skills, a result of my college degree.
But I didn't have a clue how to find and protect myself from wolves, or
in this case werewolves, the terrifying myth that was my first quest.
Just getting to Romania had been challenging enough. I'd have to rely
heavily on my guide to get me where I needed to be and keep me safe.
Beau led me to a tan Land Rover that had definitely seen better days.
The driver's door stood open. Behind the wheel sat a good-sized guy with
one weathered boot planted on the ground. From the back, I could see
that he had shaggy dark hair, wide shoulders and long legs. He wore what
I'd call safari gear, as did I -- khaki pants with lots of pockets and a
button shirt with the kind of sleeves that I could push up and secure
with a tab. Mine was OD green; his was red. I liked his better.
"Andrei, this is Cassidy Kerrigan. Cass, Andrei Dinu."
My guide got out of the vehicle and turned to face us. Nothing could've
prepared me for his eyes -- glacial blue with long, thick lashes. I'd
have killed for peepers like that. Mine were almost as black as my hair.
Not unusual for the "Dark Irish," but definitely not the blue-eyed
blond look I'd always admired.
As for the rest of Andrei Dinu -- the tall, well-proportioned, muscular
rest of him -- well, my pussy zinged to life. Annoyed, I ruthlessly
quelled my lust. If there was ever going to be a time to ignore my
sexual impulses, this would be it.
I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Andrei shook it, checking out my French-tipped nails. Feeling dwarfed by
his height and slightly intimidated, I jerked my hand away and stuck it
behind my back. His expression never changed, but I got the distinct
feeling he disapproved. His cool appraisal, which started at my ponytail
and traveled to the toes of my snazzy new hiking boots -- pink camo, no
less -- pretty much proved it. That rankled. Though I was only
five-three, I had as much heart as he did, and no woman on the planet
had ever been more determined to succeed.http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1753

Blurb:
Jade Harron has been tapped for a very delicate mission. Twin kingdoms,
at war for ages, only have one chance at alliance: union by marriage.
But someone doesn't want the warring kingdoms united. No way the king's
willing to put his daughter's neck on the line! But he's got the perfect
spy for the role -- half-Elf and cross-dressing courtesan Jade Harron,
of course.
Somehow Jade's not convinced Prince Keandre will be all that pleased
when he discovers their deception. Then again, what will they do if the
prince prefers to keep his Elven "Bride"? And then there's Jade's former
lover, Gareth, Captain of Prince Keandre's guard and keeper of his
secrets... and secret desires. Gareth knows far too much about Jade's
past. Will he expose Jade for who he is? Or coerce him back to his bed?
Jade has a feeling no matter how this ill-conceived affair turns out,
his life will never be the same. Danger, deception, espionage and
unbridled lust -- all politics as usual in this decadent court.

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and
adult language which some may find offensive and which is not
appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

Holding up the flouncy skirts with the easy grace of a dancer, I pranced
into the assembly hall, right past the guards whose eyes looked like
they were about to pop right out of their sockets. I stopped in the
entranceway and curtsied with a flourish to the king and queen of
Aleyne. The king stared at me, trying really hard not to show his
astonishment.
"Good evening, Your Majesties," I said in my most melodious girly voice
-- my trademark and the best part of my act. "You wished to see me?"
The king shook his head. The queen looked utterly scandalized and hid her face behind her fan.
"Seriously, Master Harron. Was this really necessary? It's...
disconcerting, to say the least," the king said with a disapproving
look.
I assumed an expression of insulted innocence. "I simply didn't wish to waste my time or yours."
The king heaved a sigh. "All right. The illusion is believable enough,
I'll give you that. But could you foil an assassination attempt in
this..." He gestured at the puffy under-layers of lace peeking out from
beneath the sky-blue silk skirt.
"Crinoline," I finished helpfully. "I assure you, my combat skills are in no way diminished by --"
At the king's signal, the guard who stood just behind me pulled out a
knife and lunged at me. I reached up and gripped the guard's wrist. The
blade stopped just inches away from my elaborate coiffure. Stifling a
yawn, I gave his arm a little twist. The guard gasped in pain and let go
of the blade, which clattered to the floor. I let go of him instantly,
and the man rubbed his wrist, muttering a few extremely unflattering
words.
I smiled coquettishly at their majesties and patted my hair. "Any other questions?"
The queen's mouth was a little painted "O" of shock on her pale face.
The king cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. "Yes. You do
understand that this is a highly sensitive political matter."
"Of course."
"And therefore discretion is absolutely crucial."
I tried not to let my disappointment show. "Yes, my lord. Of course."
"Now, the story is, Princess Amalia is my darling Lisele's little
sister. No one has seen her up to this point because she was raised in a
convent." He paused and glared at me. "A convent, Master Harron.
Integrate this knowledge into your act if you can."
I nodded, trying not to crack up. "That's all very well. I also know
that the people of Levant are known for their pious chastity, but I
still think Prince Keandre will notice that something is not quite right
when the wedding night comes around."
"Harron, this is serious," the king fumed. "And it won't come to that.
Once you get there, your job is to figure out who is sending the threats
to assassinate my Lisele, and to... deal with them. Then I will revoke
my decision and send Princess Lisele in your place."
"Yes, sir, but are you sure it won't cause political, ah, frictions?"
The king's expression made me want to swallow my tongue. "You let me
worry about that, Master Harron. You just do what I assigned you to do,
nothing more and nothing less, without making an idiot of yourself and
this whole court by extension. Think you can handle that?"
I broke out in a cold sweat under the tightly laced corset of the gown, swallowed the lump in my throat, and nodded.
"That's all. You will be leaving first thing tomorrow."
And thus, my fate was sealed.http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1756

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and
adult language which some may find offensive and which is not
appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale
to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made
your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be
accessed by under-aged readers.

"Are you sure you're interested, sir? Forgive me for saying so, but..."
The big, tall, Lurch-y man stared at him through wire-rimmed glasses.
"...you're not exactly a common type here."
"There's money, right? Good money?" Jack watched Lurch nod. "Then I'm
fucking interested." He had to come up with a quarter of a mil. Now,
before someone had his head on a platter, kind of literally.
Ben Williams, the bartender at Glass Houses, had listened to him crying
in his beer a couple of days ago and slipped him this business card.
Shibari Auction House. Jack had told the guy he didn't have a damn thing
left in the world. Nothing. He'd sold it all for that last desperate
game. Triple or nothing. He got nothing.
"This is... Well, they aren't buying stuff, Jack. It's... service they're buying."
Service.
It had taken him a little bit to figure it out, and a little bit longer
than that even to get up the balls to call. Knowing that Mick Peterson
was out there with a baseball bat and a switchblade helped.
"You do understand that you will enter a contract, yes?"
Jack nodded. After he called, he'd spent time with Ben, who'd told him
that all sorts of things were possible -- personal assistants, security,
even housekeeping -- but mainly this was sex stuff. With other guys, if
you wanted the money.
God knew, he wanted the money.
"I do. You tell me what'll get me the best price, I'll do it. I'm not
scared." Or proud. Hell, maybe after three years of doing... whatever,
he wouldn't want to gamble any more.
"Well, obviously the more... esoteric terms are more costly." The thin
lips pursed. "Body modifications and total submission are at the top,
and --"
"Fine. Give me the list." He had two days left before the enforcers came hunting him.
"Length of time will make a difference as well." Lurch still wasn't
handing over the list. "And anyone could buy you. Someone young, someone
old..."
"Is three years good?" He didn't care about the other. It wasn't like he
was going to get off. He started checking stuff off. "When it says body
mods, they won't cut my balls off or nothing, right?"
"No, that would be castration. Body mods includes piercings and things
like pearls slipped beneath your skin." One of Lurch's eyebrows went up,
way up, as he continued to mark items as acceptable. "Three years will
get you a good sum, especially with the number of items you're
indicating you'll do."
"Okay." He firmed his lips up and looked at the guy -- Yves, actually,
not Lurch -- again. "Is it bad that I haven't ever taken it in the ass? I
mean, I can go out tonight and do it, if it is."
Yves made a soft noise. "Are you even gay? Because trust me, we include
that you are a virgin and your price goes up. Way up. But your...
deflowering may not be all hearts and roses."
"I'm gay. I just... In my neighborhood it's a quick handjob or a blowjob
in the alley. Not... something that ends in a bed with lube." The idea
of having a cock up there made his sphincter clench.
"You can leave anal sex off the list. It will decrease the price,
though." Yves touched his arm, his look gentle. "Are you sure?" If the
man asked that one more time...
"They're going to break my legs, man. They're going to kill me. I have to pay them."
"Well, no one who buys you will break your legs or kill you." Yves shook
his head. "If you really need a lot of money, I would suggest giving
your virginity up with the rest. That really will be what increases your
price."
"Okay. Okay, yeah. It's not like it's good to me." He tried to grin.
"I'm not a bastard. I just... I gamble." He had the slightest addictive
bone.
"Not very well, it appears." Yves' tone was extremely dry.
Jack found himself laughing, hard. Hard enough that it hurt a little. "Yeah, I guess."
"If you'll finish filling that out, I'll send Bart in for the signing,
and then Katie will help you with your grooming. If you want, and you're
quick, we can get you on the bill for tonight's auction."http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1757